Chapter 22 - The Major Makes Difficulties

As I opened the dining-room door the Major hastened to meet me.
He looked the brightest and the youngest of living elderly
gentlemen, with his smart blue frock-coat, his winning smile, his
ruby ring, and his ready compliment. It was quite cheering to
meet the modern Don Juan once more.

"I don't ask after your health," said the old gentleman; "your
eyes answer me, my dear lady, before I can put the question. At
your age a long sleep is the true beauty-draught. Plenty of
bed--there is the simple secret of keeping your good looks and
living a long life--plenty of bed!"

"I have not been so long in my bed, Major, as you suppose. To
tell the truth, I have been up all night, reading."

Major Fitz-David lifted his well-painted eyebrows in polite
surprise.

"What is the happy book which has interested you so deeply?" he
asked.

"The book," I answered, "is the Trial of my husband for the
murder of his first wife."

"Don't mention that horrid book!" he exclaimed. "Don't speak of
that dreadful subject! What have beauty and grace to do with
Trials, Poisonings, Horrors? Why, my charming friend, profane
your lips by talking of such things? Why frighten away the Loves
and the Graces that lie hid in your smile. Humor an old fellow
who adores the Loves and the Graces, and who asks nothing better
than to sun himself in your smiles. Luncheon is ready. Let us be
cheerful. Let us laugh and lunch."

He led me to the table, and filled my plate and my glass with the
air of a man who considered himself to be engaged in one of the
most important occupations of his life. Benjamin kept the
conversation going in the interval.

"Major Fitz-David brings you some news, my dear," he said. "Your
mother-in-law, Mrs. Macallan, is coming here to see you to-day."

My mother-in-law coming to see me! I turned eagerly to the Major
for further information.

"She has heard from him, I believe," said the Major, "and she has
also heard from your uncle the vicar. Our excellent Starkweather
has written to her--to what purpose I have not been informed. I
only know that on receipt of his letter she has decided on paying
you a visit. I met the old lady last night at a party, and I
tried hard to discover whether she were coming to you as your
friend or your enemy. My powers of persuasion were completely
thrown away on her. The fact is," said the Major, speaking in the
character of a youth of five-and-twenty making a modest
confession, "I don't get on well with old women. Take the will
for the deed, my sweet friend. I have tried to be of some use to
you and have failed."

Those words offered me the opportunity for which I was waiting. I
determined not to lose it.

"You can be of the greatest use to me," I said, "if you will
allow me to presume, Major, on your past kindness. I want to ask
you a question; and I may have a favor to beg when you have
answered me."

Major Fitz-David set down his wine-glass on its way to his lips,
and looked at me with an appearance of breathless interest.

"Command me, my dear lady--I am yours and yours only," said the
gallant old gentleman. "What do you wish to ask me?"

"I wish to ask if you know Miserrimus Dexter."

"Good Heavens!" cried the Major; "that _is_ an unexpected
question! Know Miserrimus Dexter? I have known him for more years
than I like to reckon up. What _can_ be your object--"

"I can tell you what my object is in two words," I interposed. "I
want you to give me an introduction to Miserrimus Dexter."

My impression is that the Major turned pale under his paint.
This, at any rate, is certain--his sparkling little gray eyes
looked at me in undisguised bewilderment and alarm.

"You want to know Miserrimus Dexter?" he repeated, with the air
of a man who doubted the evidence of his own senses. "Mr.
Benjamin, have I taken too much of your excellent wine? Am I the
victim of a delusion--or did our fair friend really ask me to
give her an introduction to Miserrimus Dexter?"

Benjamin looked at me in some bewilderment on his side, and
answered, quite seriously,

"I think you said so, my dear."

"I certainly said so," I rejoined. "What is there so very
surprising in my request?"

"The man is mad!" cried the Major. "In all England you could not
have picked out a person more essentially unfit to be introduced
to a lady--to a young lady especially--than Dexter. Have you
heard of his horrible deformity?"

"I have heard of it--and it doesn't daunt me."

"Doesn't daunt you? My dear lady, the man's mind is as deformed
as his body. What Voltaire said satirically of the character of
his countrymen in general is literally true of Miserrimus Dexter.
He is a mixture of the tiger and the monkey. At one moment he
would frighten you, and at the next he would set you screaming
with laughter. I don't deny that he is clever in some
respects--brilliantly clever, I admit. And I don't say that he
has ever committed any acts of violence, or ever willingly
injured anybody. But, for all that, he is mad, if ever a man were
mad yet. Forgive me if the inquiry is impertinent. What can your
motive possibly be for wanting an introduction to Miserrimus
Dexter?"

"I want to consult him?"

"May I ask on what subject?"

"On the subject of my husband's Trial."

Major Fitz-David groaned, and sought a momentary consolation in
his friend Benjamin's claret.

"That dreadful subject again!" he exclaimed. "Mr. Benjamin, why
does she persist in dwelling on that dreadful subject?"

"I must dwell on what is now the one employment and the one hope
of my life," I said. "I have reason to hope that Miserrimus
Dexter can help me to clear my husband's character of the stain
which the Scotch Verdict has left on it. Tiger and monkey as he
may be, I am ready to run the risk of being introduced to him.
And I ask you again--rashly and obstinately as I fear you will
think--to give me the introduction. It will put you to no
inconvenience. I won't trouble you to escort me; a letter to Mr.
Dexter will do."

The Major looked piteously at Benjamin, and shook his head.
Benjamin looked piteously at the Major, and shook _his_ head.

"She appears to insist on it," said the Major.

"Yes," said Benjamin. "She appears to insist on it."

"I won't take the responsibility, Mr. Benjamin, of sending her
alone to Miserrimus Dexter."

"Shall I go with her, sir?"

The Major reflected. Benjamin, in the capacity of protector, did
not appear to inspire our military friend with confidence. After
a moment's consideration a new idea seemed to strike him. He
turned to me.

"My charming friend," he said, "be more charming than
ever--consent to a compromise. Let us treat this difficulty about
Dexter from a social point of view. What do you say to a little
dinner?"

"A little dinner?" I repeated, not in the least understanding
him.

"A little dinner," the Major reiterated, "at my house. You insist
on my introducing you to Dexter, and I refuse to trust you alone
with th at crack-brained personage. The only alternative under
the circumstances is to invite him to meet you, and to let you
form your own opinion of him--under the protection of my roof.
Who shall we have to meet you besides?" pursued the Major,
brightening with hospitable intentions. "We want a perfect galaxy
of beauty around the table, as a species of compensation when we
have got Miserrimus Dexter as one the guests. Madame Mirliflore
is still in London. You would be sure to like her--she is
charming; she possesses your firmness, your extraordinary
tenacity of purpose. Yes, we will have Madame Mirliflore. Who
else? Shall we say Lady Clarinda? Another charming person, Mr.
Benjamin! You would be sure to admire her--she is so sympathetic,
she resembles in so many respects our fair friend here. Yes, Lady
Clarinda shall be one of us; and you shall sit next to her, Mr.
Benjamin, as a proof of my sincere regard for you. Shall we have
my young prima donna to sing to us in the evening? think so. She
is pretty; she will assist in obscuring the deformity of Dexter.
Very well; there is our party complete! I will shut myself up
this evening and approach the question of dinner with my cook.
Shall we say this day week," asked the Major, taking out his
pocketbook, "at eight o'clock?"

I consented to the proposed compromise--but not very willingly.
With a letter of introduction, I might have seen Miserrimus
Dexter that afternoon. As it was, the "little dinner" compelled
me to wait in absolute inaction through a whole week. However,
there was no help for it but to submit. Major Fitz-David, in his
polite way, could be as obstinate as I was. He had evidently made
up his mind; and further opposition on my part would be of no
service to me.

"Punctually at eight, Mr. Benjamin," reiterated the Major. "Put
it down in your book."

Benjamin obeyed--with a side look at me, which I was at no loss
to interpret. My good old friend did not relish meeting a man at
dinner who was described as "half tiger, half monkey;" and the
privilege of sitting next to Lady Clarinda rather daunted than
delighted him. It was all my doing, and he too had no choice but
to submit. "Punctually at eight, sir," said poor old Benjamin,
obediently recording his formidable engagement. "Please to take
another glass of wine."

The Major looked at his watch, and rose--with fluent apologies
for abruptly leaving the table.

"It is later than I thought," he said. "I have an appointment
with a friend--a female friend; a most attractive person. You a
little remind me of her, my dear lady--you resemble her in
complexion: the same creamy paleness. I adore creamy paleness. As
I was saying, I have an appointment with my friend; she does me
the honor to ask my opinion on some very remarkable specimens of
old lace. I have studied old lace. I study everything that can
make me useful or agreeable to your enchanting sex. You won't
forget our little dinner? I will send Dexter his invitation the
moment I get home. "He took my hand and looked at it critically,
with his head a little on one side. "A delicious hand," he said;
"you don't mind my looking at it--you don't mind my kissing it,
do you? A delicious hand is one of my weaknesses. Forgive my
weaknesses. I promise to repent and amend one of these days."

"At your age, Major, do you think you have much time to lose?"
asked a strange voice, speaking behind us.

We all three looked around toward the door. There stood my
husband's mother, smiling satirically, with Benjamin's shy little
maid-servant waiting to announce her.

Major Fitz-David was ready with his answer.

The old soldier was not easily taken by surprise.

"Age, my dear Mrs. Macallan, is a purely relative expression," he
said. "There are some people who are never young, and there are
other people who are never old. I am one of the other people. _Au
revoir!_"

With that answer the incorrigible Major kissed the tips of his
fingers to us and walked out. Benjamin, bowing with his
old-fashioned courtesy, threw open the door of his little
library, and, inviting Mrs. Macallan and myself to pass in, left
us together in the room.